


First Night

by baranduin



Series: No Night Is Too Long [14]
Category: No Night is Too Long (2002)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-14
Updated: 2010-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-06 06:33:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baranduin/pseuds/baranduin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Book-verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Night

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the fanfic100 community challenge #070--Storm.

No one had ever responded to me that way before. I don't think anyone else ever will, please God. I'd like to keep what's left of my sanity though perhaps it's better to say that I'd like to hold on to the small portion of sanity that has returned to me in these last long, slow, predictable months.

But now I'm looking back to that first night, when Tim came back and knocked on my door. I knew it was him. Who else could it have been? Against my better judgment, I opened the door and let him in. I think I said something about being surprised at him and I was surprised. He had seemed such a diffident creature, all wanting and fearing but not knowing which was which or why, so I had supposed his approach to me in Martin's study had been the beginning and end of his courage. I should say at this point that I wish now that it had ended there, but I can't say it. I still can't say it even after what he (and Isabel) did to me.

"Have you never done this before?" I asked him after our first fuck of the night, when he lay on his back and looked up at me with shining eyes and one hand clutching my wrist, pulling me closer. It seemed he spent the entire night pulling me closer, whether we were grappling naked in the bed or sitting up and swilling champagne and brandy.

"Yeah, of course," he answered, compressing his pretty red mouth into a pretty smirk. "I've got a girlfriend too. She must be wondering where I am." I didn't say anything to that; frankly I wasn't very interested. Instead, I took my time and inspected his body very carefully while his smirk faded and his mouth grew slack and his cock (his very pretty cock) swelled. He pulled at me then with more than one importunate hand; he wound both arms and legs around me, not that I particularly needed the encouragement, not when I was sporting the hardest erection of my life.

"The errant boyfriend, are you?" I asked just before he pushed his mouth against mine and verbal conversation beyond moans and sighs became difficult not to mention completely irrelevant.

Sometimes I think that if we'd never started talking, if we'd just stayed in bed, then things would not have gone so irretrievably wrong. Foolish, I know, but isn't one allowed to be a fool every now and then, even established professors of paleontology? Perhaps that's why I'm so fond of my professional field; its qualities are fixed. Even though there are always discoveries to be made, for the most part they are controllable and proceed at a slow, measured pace. Unlike live human beings.

But that first night, that long, slow, luxurious night—all the misery was in the future and there was the astonishing fact of Tim's response to me. I barely had to stroke his thigh (the tender flesh of his inner thigh) or touch my tongue to his flat belly and he'd be off shivering and pulling at me and it was the most incredible thing.

Because if he responded to me the way no other man had in my life, it was the same for me. No one did for me what Tim did.

Do you know what utter misery it is not to go to him, to seek him out in that dull seaside town, that tame little place where nothing ever happens and even the winter storms are nothing special? Do you?


End file.
